


what I wanted in the future was to hold you

by dancingassassin



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero
Genre: Fluff, Iskander being Iskander, Post Series, Spoilers, Waver being cute, but it's still fluff, feelsy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingassassin/pseuds/dancingassassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for RottenAdel</p><p>It's many years post the Holy Grail War - Waver Velvet has grown up, gained prestige as a mage, and made a life for himself. He starts looking up a way to summon his king to the modern era again - both as a way to see him once and again and help fulfill Rider's wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what I wanted in the future was to hold you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RottenAdel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenAdel/gifts).



It had taken a long time for him to get the materials he needed together, but Waver had. He’d used his newfound status and prestige to go all around the world and gather what he needed. Of course, in the process he’d managed to solve more than a few supernatural issues and that’s the justification he’d used for all of his travels. He’d scheduled most of it during the Clock Tower’s breaks as well.

They couldn’t complain. He was doing this the right way.

Waver sighed slightly, brushing his long black hair away from his face as he started sketching out the circle he needed. It was so much like the one he’d used back then. _It was hard to believe that it had already been a decade._ Time had flown by far faster than he’d ever anticipated it would.

It had been difficult post-Rider. Seeing Rider fall by Gilgamesh’s hand, Waver’s little heart had shattered – but his king had wanted him to continue on, so he did. He’d gone back to the Clock Tower, he’d graduated, he’d taken on the El Melloi title. He’d started teaching and found that he was rather good at it, that somehow he was a _popular_ professor. Perhaps it was because he took Kayneth Archibald as an example of how to _not_ be a good teacher.

Eventually, in all of his research, he managed to find a way to summon heroic spirits _outside_ of Holy Grail Wars. It was in the wake of Flat Escardos had decided he was participating in a different Holy Grail War. He’d honestly considered giving his student the remnants of Rider’s cloak, the little bit of catalyst he still had. But at that point, with his student on the edge of participating in a war, Waver found himself feeling the loss of Rider even more. So he’d started serious research in how to bring Rider to the modern world – permanently this time.

The differences between the rituals were subtle – magically imbued stones rather than rooster blood, a few different wordings in the incantation. No war looming in the future. He found it far more hopeful.

Waver melted the moonstones down (for communication with spirits, wish granting, heightened abilities, and balance), the milky stone filling the etched out circle easily. It shimmered in the intricate design, almost pearlescent.

His nerves were climbing higher with each passing moment – what if he somehow messed this up? What if he didn’t succeed in summoning Iskander? Waver didn’t want to think about what sort of spirit or summon or _whatever_ would come from a botched ritual of this nature. He had done his research, there shouldn’t be any issues – but magic was, well, magic. It was unpredictable. And while his abilities had improved vastly, he still didn’t have the lineage that others did. Who knew if he actually had the mana to accomplish this summoning.

Still. Rider had always believed in him, so he had to believe in himself.

He took a step forward, letting out a slow breath and straightening to his full height. Waver held one hand out over the circle – he could already feel the mana pulsing through it, that was a good sign, right? The incantation was similar – but different enough that he wasn’t relying on a grail to summon Iskander. No, he was relying on his own mana, the ley lines of the area, time of day, the catalyst. Hopefully it would be enough.

 

“Let silver and steel be the essence, let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great master be the ancestor. My will creates your body, and my legacy creates your future.  If you heed my call, then answer my summoning!  I, Waver Velvet, hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, that I shall defeat all the evil in the world! Seventh heaven clad, and the great words of power, come forth from the circle of bindings, protector of balance!”

Waver was knocked back as a surge of mana filled the room, mist billowing from the intricate circle. He hit the wall, but managed to stay on his feet. He let his back rest against the wall, head slightly woozy from the loss of massive amounts of mana. The ritual had certainly done _something_ , though what it had done remained to be seen. Het let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and watched intently as the mist started to dissipate.

There was a figure there, though the figure was neither as tall nor as wide as it should be if it was, indeed, Iskander. Waver felt a bit of nerves clench through his abdomen. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, the mist obscuring things, and perhaps magic was just fucking with him. Sometimes magic was a dick like that.

He was back to holding his breath as the figure took a few steps closer, the footsteps lighter than he had wanted to hear. Waver closed his eyes and internally chastised himself – he had known that this had a chance of failure, it was foolish to get his hopes up.

After all, perhaps he’d see his king again some day.

“…boy?” A small, young voice asked, full of curiosity.

Waver’s eyes snapped open – only one person called him boy. Only one person who Waver _allowed_ to call him boy. He took in the figure – small, barely scraping to 5’2”, much like Waver when he’d been in the Holy Grail War. His hair was red, longer, and in a braid. The grin was unmistakably _Iskander_ , despite him being in a much smaller frame.

Waver supposed he hadn’t been specific as to what _age_ Iskander should be when he was summoned. His own mistake.

“My king…” Waver dropped to his knees, bowing his head.

“…you really _did_ grow 30 centimeters!” Iskander’s voice was light, his laugh sounding almost like bells. “Though I wonder why I’m back in the modern era – there isn’t another war, is there? And get up off your knees, you’re being _way_ too formal.”

Waver stood shakily, staring down at Iskander. He was still very much himself despite being pintsized. He was still boisterous, kingly, everything. He just happened to be tiny. He couldn’t help the smile passing over his face, though. It had _worked._

“No wars. You wished to live in the modern era, correct?” Waver remembered that. Iskander had expressed his desire to have a go at it in the modern era, especially since he’d realized the area he’d conquered was rather small. “So I decided to find a way to fulfill the wish.”

“So you missed me, huh?” Iskander’s hands were settled on his hips, the ever-present grin growing wider with each passing moment. It seemed to be sinking in that he was in the modern era _for good_ this time.

“Of course I missed you!” For the first time in almost seven years, Waver’s voice cracked into the shriek-like pitch he’d had when he was younger. He clapped a hand over his mouth and stared down at Iskander, who just kept on grinning. If he was younger, if this was anyone else, he might have been embarrassed, but right now? Right now he was too elated to care that his voice was acting like he was in puberty again. There wasn’t another moment of hesitation, he was dragging Iskander into a tight hug. “Yes, I missed you. Though…I didn’t expect _you_ to be little when I summoned you again.”

“Are you disappointed, boy?” Hearing that name from that little voice was almost comical, but it just seemed _right_.

“No, not at all.” Waver’s voice was back to normal. “I’d never be disappointed in you.”

“You’ve gotten sappy, boy.”

Despite those words, Iskander was embracing him just as tightly. Waver might think that this was another one of his dreams – that he’d fallen asleep in the middle of preparing for summoning and that this wasn’t actually real. But Iskander was warm in his arms, he could feel his breathing, the tickle of the flyaway red hairs at the crown of his head, he was breathing in the same aroma he had all those years back. This was real.

“I’m not sappy, I’m _old_.” Waver corrected. He only pulled back because his knees were complaining at being bent for too long, just another _perk_ of getting older. “Come on, I’ll show you into the rest of my home. No need to linger in the workshop.”

Yes, now Waver Velvet had a proper workshop. He was coming up in the world.

“…you’ve certainly improved your standing some, I’m proud of you.”

Those words meant the world to Waver. He’d always wondered if Iskander would be proud of him, in the back of his mind he had never doubted it. But he’d wondered if what he’d accomplished would be _enough_. He couldn’t help the smile that was plastered to his face, Iskander was _proud_ , Iskander was in this era – and for good this time! Today was a _good day_.

He led his diminutive king into his home, pausing only to remove his shoes and hang up the red jacket that he’d been wearing. Between the summoning ritual and his excitement, Waver was a bit too warm now. He found himself absently wondering if Iskander had noticed that he’d been wearing _his_ colors.

The living room was modestly decorated, with several large, comfy chairs. It seemed that the colors Iskander wore had influenced more than Waver’s jacket choice. The chairs were a deep red and there was a rich gold accenting the room. He plopped down on the sofa and motioned for Iskander to join him.

There were a few moments of silence – not awkward in the least, though. Just companionable. Even after a decade of being apart, they were still able to just sit and enjoy each other’s company. It was like no time had passed whatsoever in that respect. Waver was glad of it.

“You’re going to have to tell me all about your adventures, Waver.” Iskander’s voice was a bit softer now, but full of genuine interest.

But Waver was caught on his first name being used. His eyes were wide and he could feel heat creeping up his cheeks, a telltale sign that he was actually blushing. If only his students could see him now, awestruck and flushing like a schoolgirl. During the grail war, Iskander had usually referred to him as boy. Hearing his name coming from his king’s mouth was…wonderful.

He looked down, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt for a moment. “Of course. I did go on many…all over the world, really.”

Even though he’d been focused on his quest, Waver had made sure to enjoy each area he went to. It just seemed right. After all, it was Iskander who had inspired him to travel and somehow he thought all business and no play was a poor way to honor his king’s wishes.

“The ritual supplied me with some information about this era…do you have, uh, pictures? Of your travels? I’d like to see. And then I want to see them in person.”

There was the Iskander that Waver had been expecting – wanting to see things and then experience them himself. He was already starting to formulate ideas on how to get Iskander places – it was going to be more difficult with the other looking like he was about _thirteen_. He supposed he could just say he was a young looking adult, and that wasn’t even factoring the whole ‘getting an ID and birth certificate’ thing. It was going to be a lot of work, but Waver felt it was worth it, well worth it.

“I do have pictures, plenty of them. I can’t promise that I’m the best photographer out there – ” He was about to say more when Iskander interrupted him with a small chuckle.

“I don’t expect you to be the best, I expect you to be _you_.” The words were so simple, Iskander’s expression so smiley and honest.

For a moment, Waver swore he could see the older Iskander grinning through those young, bright features.

The smile returned to his face as he made eye contact with his king. Olive green met crimson. “I think I can handle that.”

There was another hearty chuckle as Iskander slung an arm around Waver’s shoulders, the smaller man having to reach up quite a lot to manage it. “Well, I’d hope so. Who else would be you?”

His eyes closed as he started laughing, shoulders shaking with mirth. “I don’t know, my mystic code?” _No, that took the form of a maid_. “I’m going to have to get used to you being so _short_ , Iskander.”

There was another moment of silence – though this one seemed to be akin to when Waver had heard his name uttered by Iskander. He was watching the younger man’s face shift from wonder to amusement to something akin to joy in the span of about ten seconds. The joy softened to something else, though Waver couldn’t quite place it. “Well, I didn’t exactly expect you to actually grow 30 cm, _boy_.”


End file.
